


Jealousy, Turning Saints Into the Sea

by servecobwebheadaches



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Aftercare, And the fics are never humorous, BDSM, Chains, Choking, Cock Rings, D/s, Established Relationship, M/M, Master/Slave Kink, My titles are always puns, PWP, Smut, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7415074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servecobwebheadaches/pseuds/servecobwebheadaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan took Brendon's other wrist, pulling his arms up over his head, and pinned his wrists together to the wall.  “Do you need a reminder,” Ryan asked in his ear, “of how helpless you are to me?  How you have no control over yourself, let alone over me?  How I can do anything I want to you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealousy, Turning Saints Into the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone knows where the title is from.

The thing was, Brendon knew how easily Ryan got jealous. Ryan didn't show it until they were in bed together—he wasn't overly clingy out in public, but it was a whole different story behind closed doors. That was why Brendon loved to rile him up so much.

It started small. They were out at a party, a professional one, with no alcohol besides champagne and clothing only in black and white. White tablecloths. Fancy chandeliers. More of a social gathering than anything. Far from what Brendon would consider a party.

Since it was boring, Ryan was fully paying attention to Brendon, having nothing better to do. That was when Brendon slipped away from him, looking around the room for a table—his next move, sitting down to charm other people.

He sat with a group of women, smiling, greeting them, listening to them talk. They were fascinated by him, and he came off as being just as fascinated by them. They worked for the label, surprised that Brendon was there in person.

Brendon continuously caught Ryan glancing at him from across the room, pointedly, and Brendon acted like he didn't notice or care.

Much to Ryan's irritation, Brendon spent the whole party with the girls, not with Ryan. It was making Ryan upset to have Brendon choosing other people over him, flirting with other people over him. All the distance was only because of Brendon's longing to be closer to Ryan in the long run—to get his boyfriend jealous before the night was over would make sure Ryan didn't take his hands off him when they got home.

Sure enough, before the party was over, he felt Ryan's fingertips caress the back of his neck. “B, I think we should get going,” Ryan said. Brendon took note of how his voice had an element of roughness, how his eyes were darker. Fuck, Brendon knew what that meant. He smirked, just thinking about it.

“Yeah, you're right,” Brendon said. When he stood up to leave the table, he bent to kiss one of the women on the cheek, sticking his ass out towards Ryan, cocking a hip. Two birds, one stone. Making him jealous and seducing him, Brendon was pleased with himself.

Ryan smiled darkly at Brendon, wrapping an arm around his waist as soon as he stood up straight. It was unlike Ryan to display their relationship like that, but Brendon knew the reasoning—Ryan wanted everyone to know that Brendon was taken.

It was discreet, but Brendon could feel Ryan's fingernails digging into the flesh of his hip, pressing him as close to Ryan's side as Ryan wanted him.

Brendon went with it, allowing Ryan to guide him to the car. Ryan opened the door for him, and smacked his ass before letting him get in. Brendon could feel the warmth of his hand, through his slacks, how Ryan had cupped his cheek. Just from that, Brendon knew he was in for it.

Ryan drove, beginning to talk when they were pulling out. “Disobedient,” Ryan tsked. “Looks like someone’s getting a punishment for not staying with me.” He placed a hand over the inside of Brendon's thigh, skimming up to brush his half-hard cock, up his abdomen, to his chest, and stroking back down again. “I think you need a reminder of who you belong to.”

Brendon's skin kept jolting under Ryan's touch, sending a shiver up his spine, making his back arch involuntarily. The gentle touches were completely unnerving.

“Oh, don't try to get out of it now,” Ryan warned. “You know what you did.” His fingers found Brendon's face, touching his cheek. “I can't let you get away with that.” Brendon spread his legs when Ryan’s hand skimmed back down to his crotch. He felt hot, overheating in his suit, with Ryan feeling him up, but he supposed that wouldn't be a problem, soon enough. Ryan would be roughly stripping him, Brendon thought.

The rest of the ride home, Ryan had his fingers in Brendon's hair, tugging lightly, fingertips pressing into his scalp. Brendon didn't dare make a noise.

“You're not supposed to leave your master’s side when we’re out in public,” Ryan whispered in his ear, before getting out of the car.

Brendon let out a shaky breath to contain any sound he was tempted to make. He stood next to the car, palms up, wrists offered. To be good, Brendon had to wait for Ryan, allow him to control every one of his movements. Brendon's eyes followed Ryan, as he rounded the car to gaze at Brendon.

Ryan observed Brendon's wrists, Brendon's wide eyes, his parted lips, and nodded, a hint of a smirk on his face, now. He only took one of Brendon's wrists, long fingers curling all the way around it. Brendon's other arm fell limply to his side while Ryan dragged him into the house.

Trying his best to follow behind Ryan with as little resistance as possible, his knees felt weak, desire overcoming him. With that came the need to please Ryan, and that meant taking whatever Ryan laid out for him.

In the bedroom, Ryan roughly shoved Brendon ahead of him, pressing his front against a wall. Brendon's breathing became heavier with the force of it, holding in a huff.

Ryan took Brendon's other wrist, pulling his arms up over his head, and pinned his wrists together to the wall. “Do you need a reminder,” Ryan asked in his ear, “of how helpless you are to me? How you have no control over yourself, let alone over me? How I can do anything I want to you?”

Brendon didn't answer.

Ryan wanted him out of his clothes, letting go of his wrists. Brendon didn't protest, didn't move at all. The side of his face pressed into the wall, which felt rugged against his skin. Ryan was taking Brendon's jacket off for him, hands coming down to his hips. Brendon only shifted his hips so Ryan could have access to the front.

Only able to hear and feel what Ryan was doing, Brendon shivered when he didn't hear Ryan drop his belt to the ground after taking it off. The only thing that could mean was that Ryan would use it later.

Unbuttoning Brendon's slacks, Ryan began speaking again. “You were naughty tonight. You have no right to be. You're powerless.” He slapped Brendon's ass again, with Brendon’s pants pushed halfway down his hips. “You're nothing more than my little sex slave, isn't that right?”

Brendon couldn't help it—he whimpered. Before he knew it, his pants were off, leaving him in a shirt, tie, and underwear.

“If I want to hear you, I'll tell you,” Ryan said, and Brendon nodded. “For now, I want you quiet.”

With his grip firm on Brendon's hips, Ryan spun him around to face each other. Under Ryan's gaze, Brendon felt sensitive and vulnerable; helpless, just the way Ryan wanted him. Ryan undid Brendon's tie—“You’re all mine. I'm not gonna stop until I've claimed every last inch of you.” Ryan stared at him, and pulled him up by the collar of his shirt to crash their lips together.

He unbuttoned Brendon's shirt, telling him, “I could fuck you right here, right against this wall, and you would take it, wouldn't you?” Brendon nodded, leaning against Ryan's chest as Ryan held him there. He wanted to beg Ryan to fuck him, wanted to get down on his knees and show Ryan how good he could be, but Ryan wasn't letting him.

Ryan's fingers circled around his wrists again, now pinned behind his back. Brendon whimpered again, face buried in Ryan's neck. He could feel Ryan's cock through his slacks, hard. Ryan spanked his ass for the noise, and Brendon held his breath to refrain from moaning.

“I want you to go sit on the bed,” Ryan said, “and stay still. Let's see if you can still be good for me.”

Brendon instantly moved, but Ryan's grip wasn't loosening on him.

“I wasn't done, slut.”

Brendon almost whined, but caught himself.

“You're going to be quiet, and when I tell you to do something, you'll do it.”

Again, Brendon was held still by Ryan. He squirmed—Ryan's hold on his wrists was quite tight. Brendon glanced over Ryan's shoulder at the neatly made bed, the belt resting on it. He was about to be whipped, he knew it, that was his punishment.

Ryan was watching Brendon, seeing his struggle to go to the bed. “Does my poor little slave just want to please his master? Eager to please me?” He released Brendon's wrists, and Brendon stumbled to the mattress, sitting down with his legs hanging off.

Brendon sat in suspense while Ryan looked at him, debating between spreading his legs farther or keeping them closed. He didn't have much time to think about it, though, as Ryan knelt in front of him. Ryan opened his legs, and splayed a hand over both his bare thighs, pressing them down into the mattress.

Even if Brendon tried, he wasn't able to move with Ryan's strong hold. Ryan was suckling a hickey onto Brendon's lower stomach, and Brendon couldn't contain himself—whimpering and shaking, coming apart in Ryan's hands. “Are you asking me for a punishment now?” Ryan asked, before attaching his lips to the space above Brendon's belly button.

Brendon bit his lip. Ryan let go of him and squinted. “Purposely disobeying me? Maybe I'm not even proud that you're mine, if you're not even going to pleasure your master . . .” Ryan scolded. “Just making your punishment worse.”

Almost smiling, Brendon looked down. A punishment wasn't a bad thing. Yet he was slightly guilty—he didn't want to disappoint, he wanted Ryan to have his pleasure, and he definitely wanted his own reward.

“Now, if you feel bad, you can prove yourself to me as still being the perfect sex slave I want,” Ryan said. He held Brendon down by his thighs once more, hard enough to bruise. Brendon leaned back on his hands, only for Ryan to demand, “Take your shirt off. Don't try to hide any of that skin from me.”

Brendon was so hard already, still in his underwear, but Ryan wasn't helping him with that at all. Ryan was simply marking up Brendon's torso, teeth and lips on skin. He wouldn't be able to go shirtless for a week around everyone without the hickeys being obvious.

He had to bite his lip and hold onto the sheets when Ryan's lips closed around his nipple, teeth closing down lightly, tugging. Brendon somehow managed to stay quiet, breathing fast, but the painful pleasure went straight to his cock. Ryan did the same to his other nipple, and Brendon knew they would be sore and bruised by tomorrow.

“Don't even think about escaping this now,” Ryan said, trailing his tongue down one of Brendon's ribs. “You're mine and mine only. Look at yourself.”

Brendon looked down at his body, the pretty color of the red and purple bruises on his chest and stomach, the bulge in the fabric of his underwear, Ryan's hands kneading his thighs.

“The next time you want to hit on someone, be flirty, think about this. Think about how much you're enjoying being a slave to me.” Ryan snapped the elastic waistband of Brendon's boxers. “Get on your hands and knees. How you take this punishment will determine what I use to gag you with. Maybe if you beg me, I won't have to.”

Brendon scurried to get on his hands and knees, presenting his ass to Ryan, tempting Ryan to take him right then and there. Ryan pulled down his boxers, and Brendon blinked at the cool air of the room hitting his skin.

“I can be good for you, master,” Brendon claimed. “I'm proud to be your slave. Yours.”

Ryan whipped him with the belt, and Brendon wasn't expecting it at all. He choked and pushed his hips back from where they jerked forward. “Are you going to—” _crack_ “—count for me—” _crack_ “—or not—” _crack_ “—slut?”

“Five,” Brendon moaned, after the belt came down again.

Ryan fell silent, hitting with precision. Brendon's ass felt like fire, felt torn up and raw, but he couldn't be more turned on. Ryan should’ve tied his wrists up, Brendon thought, because it was taking a lot for him to not touch himself. “Master, please—nine—call me your—ten—slut again. Eleven. I belong to you, don't I?”

“Yes, you're my desperate fucking slut, even if I have to coax that out of you. You know you belong to me, and there's nothing you can do about it.”

At fifteen strokes, Ryan stopped whipping him. Ryan was slightly winded, but Brendon was panting, letting out tiny groans. He was trying to hold in tears, his eyes welling up horribly, and trying to refrain from collapsing and rutting into the mattress. The whipping hurt, but he mainly needed to be touched, needed to come.

Ryan touched the lashes on his thighs and ass, making Brendon choke and hiss. The first tear dripped down his face. “Please, let me pleasure you, master, I can make you feel good . . .”

“You already are,” Ryan said, wickedly.

“Take me, master, take me.”

“What a dirty set of lips you have.” Ryan touched his thighs from behind him, the skin right underneath the lashing, feeling how they were trembling. “I don't think I want to shut you up. No gags tonight. You earned it.”

“Th-thank you, master.”

“You were still bad. I still haven't finished claiming you.”

“I’m sorry I strayed from my master. Make me be your good little slave again,” Brendon begged, cock throbbing.

“Hmm. You really need more of a punishment, don't you?” Brendon could feel Ryan's tongue, hot and wet, press into one of the raw lashes on his ass. “If you move, I'll gag you and whip you more,” Ryan threatened, draping the now warm belt over Brendon's back.

Brendon nearly collapsed at the thought, but stayed still.

Ryan vanished from Brendon's sight, but Brendon could hear him rummaging around somewhere. He distinctly heard the sound of chains, and, in a trained reaction, whimpered.

“Chains? Is that your weakness?” Ryan murmured, suddenly right in his ear.

“Take my power, use me, master, use me.”

“My little slave. That's all you are, isn't it? All you care about is pleasing your master. That's my good slut.” Ryan slipped a hand between Brendon's legs from behind him, and Brendon didn't know until he felt it—Ryan expertly fitting a cock ring on him.

More tears fell. Now he really couldn't come.

“Can you lay on your back for me?” Ryan asked. Brendon knew why it wasn't a demand—he was concerned with the welts on Brendon's ass.

Brendon nodded and complied, although it stung. However, Brendon didn't mind the pain. The extra sensation only meant more pleasure for him.

Ryan thumbed away his tears, standing beside the bed. There was once a time where Ryan would be concerned by him crying in bed, but those days were over. Brendon cried easily during play like this, Ryan had learned. It didn't mean he should stop.

“Pathetic,” Ryan muttered. “I have so much more in store for you, and you're already crying? You're gonna be a mess by the time I'm through with you.”

Brendon nodded in agreement. “Do whatever you want to me, master.”

Ryan looked Brendon's body up and down, taking him in. He brushed his fingers down the front of his neck, stroking all the unmarked skin, the places Brendon was sure he would leave hickeys all over. Ryan stroked down his Adam’s apple a few times, leaving Brendon with fluttering eyes. “Delicate,” Ryan murmured.

“Break me, master, please. I want to be your good little slave,” Brendon said again.

“Good little slaves shouldn't have any control.” Ryan smiled. “Good little slaves will let their master do anything to them. And good little slaves? Won't make their master jealous all night and expect a reward.”

“I'm sorry, master. Please forgive me,” Brendon whined.

“We’ll see,” Ryan said, leaning down nip at Brendon's jaw.

Brendon's stomach twisted at his tone, how soft his voice was. His hips twitched when Ryan rubbed one of his bruised nipples, at the same time as picking up a chain link. Ryan's hand skimmed down Brendon's body to grab his wrist, pulling his arm up and pinning his hand to the headboard. Brendon didn't resist in the slightest, fingers loose. Ryan circled the chain around Brendon's wrist and the bar of the headboard, trapping them together. He did this until there was no slack, no way for Brendon to move his hand or arm at all, and clasped the chain.

It worked like a necklace, except a lot larger. The chain clasped onto its own links, so it could be as tight or as loose as Ryan wanted his restraints on Brendon. After the first wrist was tied, Ryan rounded the bed with a second chain to do the same to his other wrist.

Brendon didn't bother to test them, knowing it would be useless just from how tight they were on his wrists, how Ryan was looking at him with such a strong satisfaction and desire.

The chains were cold and confining, along with the headboard, and the sensation was making him dizzy with need. He was sure he would've came when Ryan simply touched his thighs, if it weren't for the unyielding cock ring Ryan had him in.

Ryan had more chains and some leather material in his hands, as he gazed up at Brendon from the foot of the bed. “I'm going to make you mine. Completely and wholly. Until you know you're nothing more than a pretty little toy who’s mine to fuck. Until all you care about and think about is your master.” Brendon was moaning, nodding in agreement to Ryan, especially when Ryan was closing a leather cuff around his thigh. “You belong to me. Every inch of you, every bit of your control—it's all mine to play with.”

The cuff laced up on Brendon's thigh, a metal ring sticking out on top. The leather went on the skin underneath the parts that were blooming with welts—the belt had curled around the inside of his upper thighs during the whipping. “You own me, master. I'm all yours to control,” Brendon said, though it was languid and dreamy sounding. He was entranced by Ryan's fingers working intricately on the laces of a second cuff on his other thigh, matching. Brendon wanted those fingers on him. He was desperate to be touched by Ryan.

Brendon's legs were already spread, and Ryan's hands were technically between his legs to lace the cuffs. Brendon was hoping Ryan would finger him open right there, or remove the cock ring so he could come. Neither happened, but Brendon wasn't upset when Ryan produced a third cuff, securing it over Brendon's ankle.

He didn't really know what Ryan had in mind, but Brendon trusted him. Brendon trusted that Ryan would be getting him helpless and unable to do much at all in a few moments. Ryan's words alone were enough to make Brendon's cock throb, let alone all of the restraints and touches.

After a cuff had been fixed on each of Brendon's thighs and ankles, Ryan was still holding chains and another piece of leather. “I might be keeping my needy slut in this a lot more often, so you know not to stray from me,” Ryan insinuated. The chains slipped from his fingers onto the mattress, so he was only holding the strip of leather, and Brendon knew what it was, as soon as he could see it clearly.

He moaned softly as Ryan sidled up Brendon's body, closer to his face. Brendon tossed his head back, baring his neck for Ryan to adjust the leather collar around his throat. “My own slave,” Ryan said, as the collar snapped on. Brendon couldn't stop making these noises from the feeling—he was Ryan's, all Ryan's, and Ryan wanted to claim him.

“Imagine how everyone would know, slut, how powerless you are, how you're someone’s obedient slave, by seeing this collar around that neck of yours. Everyone would know you're mine, how you let me take you. Wouldn't you like that? Aren't you a proud whore?” Ryan teased, stroking Brendon's cheek. Brendon's eyes were watering again at the light touch.

“I'm proud to be _your_ whore, master.”

“That's what I thought.”

Ryan moved away to pick up the chains again. He didn't meet Brendon's stare, eyes trained on the collar and chain, instead. Ryan clasped the chain to the metal ring on the front of Brendon's collar, but the chain was so short, Brendon didn't know where Ryan would connect it.

The answer came when Ryan was lifting one of Brendon's naked thighs off the mattress, saying, “Bend your knee for me, there you go.” The metal ring on top of the cuff around his thigh lined up to the chain, and Ryan clasped it.

From the collar to the cuff, the chain was pulled taut and firm. Brendon couldn't straighten his leg, or move anything in his leg at all—besides his ankle, and he knew that would be immobilized soon, too—without moving his torso towards his leg. That wouldn't really work, either, due to the restraints around his wrists, so, really, as Ryan was connecting a chain from Brendon's thigh to ankle, he couldn't move at all. He had no control over his limbs.

This made a flash of fear go through him, but that instantaneously pooled into arousal inside of him. To have that much of his control taken away from him, to be completely unable to move, was weakening, was upping Brendon's vulnerability, but . . .

It was a fantasy put into reality.

Ryan chained up Brendon's other thigh to his collar, his other ankle to thigh. He truly was under Ryan's control, under _his_ _master’s_ control, and he longed to be touched by him. For the first time that night, he caught a look of desperation cross over Ryan's face, a loss of composure. He was looking at Brendon's body, all the chains and leather and hickeys and skin, and it was obviously impacting him.

The chains were just a reminder that Brendon was his slave, his devoted sex slave, all spread open just for him.

Ryan's jacket fell to the floor. His tie. His belt. His shirt. Pants. Boxers. He stood naked in front of Brendon, and Brendon let out a sob. It meant Ryan was going to give him some relief, to his throbbing cock, to his dizzying need.

Brendon was sure Ryan's cock had never looked so tempting, he was sure he’d never wanted Ryan to fuck his face so bad.

“Master, please, let me taste you,” Brendon begged, watching intently as Ryan palmed himself.

“You better put that mouth to good use if I'm not going to get the gag,” Ryan said.

Brendon licked his lips, slowly, as Ryan straddled his shoulders, avoiding the chains. Brendon couldn't touch Ryan anywhere—he could only use his lips and tongue, but that was okay. The pre come on the head of Ryan's cock hit his lips, and Brendon let it drip there, until Ryan lined his cock up in his mouth.

It was a feat on its own that Brendon could take Ryan all the way down to the base. It took everything in his power to do that, Ryan's cock easily hitting the back of his throat. But when Ryan rocked his hips forward, tears poured from Brendon's eyes, and he choked. Ryan didn't pull out of his mouth, but only back a few inches, allowing Brendon to recollect himself.

The tears were a steady stream now, reaching Brendon's lips, the base of Ryan's cock. Brendon thought he may have been able to taste them when he bobbed his head forward.

Ryan looked down at Brendon, seeing his tear-tracked face, but didn't pull away until a few moments later. Brendon was still enjoying it, and he knew he was doing well for Ryan. “I'm not going to let you swallow my come, even though you'd love that, you slut. I want to feel you around me, I want to feel you writhing underneath me and knowing there's nothing you can do about it,” Ryan said.

“Please take me, master,” Brendon said, but his voice was rough. Cracking. It was from choking around Ryan's cock, so it was worth it, and Ryan groaned at Brendon's words.

Ryan ducked his head, and Brendon could feel his lips on the sensitive, sensitive skin between lashings on his thigh. Ryan was sucking a hickey into the skin, giving him an extra mark in that spot, and Brendon was whimpering pathetically again, trembling. The muscles in his thighs and stomach quivered. He needed release, he needed to come, he needed Ryan inside him.

Without any warning, Ryan was prepping Brendon with two fingers, which quickly became three. The prep was rough, with what probably wasn't enough lube, but that didn't bother Brendon much. It didn't make a difference after everything Ryan had already done to him.

Ryan's tongue grazed a welt, and Brendon cried out helplessly. There was nothing he could do about it. Ryan's fingers hit his prostate, and Brendon would have came, yet again, if it weren't for the painful cock ring.

Mercilessly, Ryan sunk his teeth into Brendon's hipbone, the softness of his upper thigh. Brendon's back arched, and he was crying, sobbing out and begging for Ryan to fuck him, “Master, please—”

All Ryan did was bite Brendon's side, making teeth marks indent the skin deeply. Brendon's voice was hoarse and giving out at the end of every moan, every noise he made. Ryan tongued the skin between his teeth, and Brendon was whining constantly.

“Master, I'm sorry, please, _please_ , master—”

“Fucking slut,” Ryan cursed. “I'm gonna fuck you until you can't remember anything else.”

Brendon tried to nod, but he choked from the resistance of the chain on his neck.

Ryan smirked.

Pleadingly, Brendon blinked at Ryan, eyes wide and wet. Ryan met his stare, with a hand splayed over the leather cuff on Brendon's thigh, and ducked his head between Brendon's legs—to trail his tongue around the head of Brendon's cock. Brendon sobbed at the over-sensitivity in his body, back arching uselessly, shoulders straining to pull on the restraints.

“Master, I can't—” Brendon groaned, frustrated.

“Mm. Can't do anything without me letting you, can you? As it should be.”

Brendon didn't know how much more he could take before he broke the roleplay, before he demanded that Ryan fucked him and took the cock ring off, before he came without Ryan's permission. Ryan's words were too much, hitting Brendon where we was so sensitive.

He couldn't see well past his tears, but all those thoughts shut down when he felt the head of Ryan's cock tease him open. At the same time, Ryan licked the tears off Brendon's face, his tongue trailing from his jaw up to the bone under his eye. The movement was slow and possessive, so possessive, just something else to show how much Brendon belonged to Ryan.

Ryan sunk into Brendon, stretching him open, indulgently. Brendon's thighs tightened with the instinct to move, to wrap them around Ryan's waist and push him in, fuck himself faster on Ryan's cock, but they were immobilized. “My slave,” Ryan said, as deep as he could be. “My slut. Mine.” He spoke over Brendon's loud moans.

“Master, please,” Brendon gasped. “I want you.”

Ryan's fingers played over Brendon's nipples, and the sensation definitely wasn't quieting him. Ryan bent over to suck on Brendon's neck, low, beneath the collar, while rolling his hips into Brendon, their skin sliding together.

“Tell me how you feel, how you feel to be owned,” Ryan panted. He continued kissing Brendon's neck, biting here and there, whispering the word, “mine,” into his skin.

It took Brendon a moment to collect himself enough to answer, to form words. He was so overwhelmed by the feeling of Ryan, Ryan, all over him. “I feel like yours, I'm yours, only yours. I want to be your slave, tell me what to do.” He let out a noise of pleasure with Ryan groaning in his ear, thrusting into him faster. “You own me, all I can do is pleasure you. Use me, master, use me like the dirty whore that I am.”

Ryan's hips stuttered, and Brendon knew that meant he was close to coming, but then Brendon felt Ryan's fingers wrap around his throat. Ryan's palm pressed into his windpipe, leaving him unable to talk or breathe. “You are a filthy whore, fuck, I'm not going to last with you talking like that.”

There were spots in Brendon's vision, slowly taking over to shades of green and black as he couldn't breathe, couldn't come. Ryan kept hitting his prostate, making Brendon's cock try to twitch every time.

He attempted to straighten his legs, to pull his neck up in resistance to Ryan's hand, but it only made his back arch, the chains drag against each other, and Ryan pin him to the bed harder. In a desperate attempt to make Ryan come, Brendon clenched down around his cock, and Ryan gasped out a moan.

“You're gonna come for me like a good boy, don't you want that?” Ryan asked, loosening his grip around Brendon's neck.

Brendon nodded frantically, and Ryan partially pulled out, only to slam back into him.

All he could feel was the cock ring slip off, Ryan's teeth dig into his collarbone, and his own come hitting his chest. He heard himself trying to moan as he came down—his voice wasn't working properly—and Ryan praising him for being a slut, for being his perfect slave.

Ryan came right when Brendon's eyes opened, just in time for Brendon to see his face twist, mouth drop open. Brendon was shivering by the time Ryan's come was filling him up, and any hold Ryan had on Brendon loosened.

“Oh, fuck, you're so good,” Ryan said, against Brendon's lips, fucking him through his orgasm. Brendon was over sensitive, but completely spent. Ryan held still and panted for a few moments before pulling out of Brendon.

Brendon was still flying high, blissed out, as Ryan kissed his open lips. He shivered again, vision cloudy. Vaguely, he thought he should be feeling guilty for something, something Ryan was mad at him for, but he felt too good . . .

The bed was soft under his body, though his back ached, his welts stung, and his skin was bruising where the cuffs were. He didn't think about it, only the warm feeling inside him, the soothing sound of Ryan's voice in his ear. “You're such a good boy, my good boy.” There was no weight on his body anymore, Ryan standing from off the bed. “I'm going to unchain you, okay?”

Brendon fluttered his eyes instead of a nod, feeling weak and tired. Ryan's hands hovered over his collar, shifting to touch Brendon's hair instead of the chains. His fingertips were light against Brendon's scalp, and Brendon exhaled heavily, savoring Ryan's touch. He even felt an empty disappointment when the touch was gone—craving Ryan's praise.

Ryan saw the look on his face, and cupped Brendon's cheek. “I'm right here, baby boy, I'm not going anywhere.” He trailed his hand down Brendon's face, to his collar. “You can relax.” Ryan unlatched the first and second chain, one right after the other, making Brendon's head fall back onto the pillows, no longer held up by the tension of the chain between his neck and thighs.

“Careful, now,” Ryan cooed. He quickly undid the chains between Brendon's thighs and ankles, so his legs could fall comfortably to the bed. Brendon thought of being able to curl up under the covers, wrapped up and burrowed in Ryan's arms, and his eyelids drooped. Ryan would feel so nice snuggled up beside him. “I'm going to untie your wrists,” Ryan warned.

Drowsily, Brendon mouthed the word, “Okay,” but no sound came with it. His voice wasn't responding to his will, and that wasn't a problem with him, when all he wanted was to hear Ryan's voice.

With another hesitation, Ryan's fingers brushed Brendon's throat, underneath the tight collar. “Are you feeling okay?” Ryan questioned, beginning to work the collar loose from around his neck.

“Yeah,” Brendon lipped, and it would only be a mumble if his voice wasn't lost.

“Did you lose your voice, sweetheart? I'll go get you some water in a second.”

Brendon's eyes flew open, trying to find Ryan's face, hovering over him to release his wrists from the headboard. “Please don't leave me tonight,” Brendon rasped out, squeaking around air.

Ryan looked down at him, smiling softly. “Of course I won't,” he said, holding one of Brendon's hands and easing his arm to the bed. “I never do.” As soon as Brendon was completely free, only the leather cuffs around his legs remaining, Ryan kissed his forehead, then his lips. “I'll be right back, I promise,” Ryan said.

Brendon wanted to whine, half-ready to cry, needing Ryan to come hold him until he fell asleep. He didn't want to doze off . . . cold and lonely . . . Ryan across the house . . .

“I know you're out of it, B, and that's okay. You just lay here. I promise I'll be quick,” Ryan said, kissing any distressed look off Brendon's face.

He was out of the room before Brendon could even watch him go. Brendon felt dazed, staring at the ceiling. His ass hurt more without Ryan there, he thought, and his wrists were bruised in the shape of chain links, a bit swollen. Ryan would come take care of him, soon, Brendon knew it, even though tonight had been a ‘punishment’ night, ah, yes—Brendon had deliberately made him jealous, that was what had happened.

“Here, drink some water, all of this wasn't too good for your voice,” Ryan suggested. Brendon hadn't heard him come in, but the sound of his voice made warmth flood over Brendon. Ryan was sinking down on the mattress, on his knees, offering a glass to Brendon.

Brendon's hands shook, but he took it and gulped some down. Ryan helped him sit up, an arm around his waist, and steadied his arm so he wasn't dripping water down his front. “Good boy, beautiful. You wanna eat something? I brought us chocolate chips,” Ryan offered.

Not wanting to speak, Brendon nodded.

Ryan took a plastic bag off the nightstand and popped a few chocolate chips in Brendon's mouth. The sweet taste was a bit too much, so Brendon couldn't take more than the handful Ryan gave him. “There you go,” Ryan said.

With Ryan's hand on his chest, Brendon laid back against the pillows once more. “I'm just taking your cuffs off,” Ryan said, as he stopped touching Brendon for one moment.

“Okay,” Brendon squeaked.

Ryan giggled at the sound.

The cuffs were discarded by the collar and chains, and Ryan pressed a kiss to Brendon's knee. “Hey, B?” Ryan said, crawling up the bed to touch Brendon's hair. “Do you want to come take a bath?”

“Want you,” Brendon mumbled.

“I'm right here. Let's just get cleaned up before bed.”

Brendon felt Ryan's lips on his cheek, and then his warmth leave the bed, and Brendon rolled over to follow him.

“I'll be right here, Brendon, just rest for a minute,” Ryan said.

“Come lay with me,” Brendon said, reaching an arm towards Ryan, shaky, but he knew Ryan couldn't hear him with his voice in such a weak state and the bath Ryan had began running. If he turned his head, he could see Ryan standing in the bathroom, and that was comforting, but it wasn't enough—he wanted to be in Ryan's arms, have Ryan telling him how good he was, how proud Ryan was of him for it.

His wrists felt sore, along with his ankles and thighs, throbbing faintly as the bruises formed. He had no doubt Ryan would come make it feel all better.

The water shut off, and Brendon felt relieved at not having to hear it anymore. The silence was nice, especially with how drowsy he was.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Ryan's light voice came, smooth, calming. “I know it hurts right now, but I'm gonna make you feel better, B. Come here.” With Ryan's coaxing, Brendon sat up on his elbows, to which Ryan eased him out of bed. Brendon's legs shook, Ryan's arm around his waist mostly being what supported him.

He was so tired, weakened, blissed out—he couldn't form a proper thought on how he felt. “Dazed,” he finally said into Ryan's neck, muffled.

“Okay,” Ryan replied with a chuckle.

Brendon leaned back against Ryan's chest, in the bath, between his legs. Ryan's arms were around him, stroking a washcloth softly down the bruises on his abdomen. “You did so well tonight, baby boy. You're such a good boy for me,” Ryan praised in Brendon's ear. He kissed Brendon's neck, and Brendon's head lolled forward.

“Ryan,” he breathed.

“Sleepy,” Ryan said. He tilted Brendon's chin up, resting Brendon's head on his shoulder. “We’ll go to bed soon.” Brendon was so warm, he was nearly falling asleep on Ryan's shoulder. Ryan's touch was gentle and loving, and he finished washing Brendon up. “Feel good?” Ryan asked.

Brendon nodded, but said, “My ass hurts.” He squirmed, only making it worse. Ryan caressed his thigh to still him.

“Let's get your poor little ass taken care of, then,” Ryan whispered. They rinsed off, and Ryan eased Brendon out of the water. Brendon shivered, and Ryan wrapped a towel around him, drying him off. He was careful to avoid the welts on Brendon's ass and thighs, and kept kissing his skin after it was dried off.

Ryan guided him to the bed, once more, and asked, “Can you lay on your front for me, baby boy?” Brendon did so, and watched Ryan get some lotion from the corner of his eye. “This is gonna be cold, okay? It'll feel better in a minute,” Ryan said.

Brendon flinched at first, then allowed Ryan to smooth lotion over his welts and bruises. Ryan was softhearted with him, fingers light on his skin.

Before Brendon knew it, Ryan was done, and crawling on the bed next to him. This significantly brightened Brendon's mood, bringing a smile to his face. Ryan kissed his lips, draping an arm around him to ease him to the mattress. They laid facing each other, Ryan whispering to him. “I love you so much, Brendon, you're the most perfect thing. You take everything so well, beautiful. I love you, love you.”

“I love you too,” Brendon mumbled, as Ryan pulled him closer. Ryan planted kisses from his forehead to his temple to his nose to his lips, and Brendon faintly blushed.

With his face burrowed in Ryan's neck, Ryan's voice in his ear, and Ryan's fingers massaging his back, Brendon dozed off. Ryan would probably feel guilty in the morning, but Brendon would be able to comfort him in knowing that he loved it—and would try to go at it again the next night. 

 


End file.
